The story
Living Names hardened into ranks, Marks became seals, and the map grew more important than the traveler.
The surviving record begins after the mistake had already become ordinary.
A Current Name, once offered as navigation, had become a permanent class. Marks were closed into seals. Mantles that were meant to be seasonal became titles people were afraid to set down.
The Cartographers called this the Closed Name: the moment a living description becomes a prison.
What happened next survives only in pieces. Seals were broken. The language was scattered. A white lion carried one broken circle away from the hall where identities had been assigned.
The final line remains legible: “If the map requires the traveler to become smaller, break the map.”